Half Mast Never Again
by Wesley E. Matillies
Summary: First person - inspired by MASH and Gallipoli - the hours before the next advance over the top.


Half Mast (Never Again) _**(Dedicated to A.A., M.F. & M.L.)**_

_Never again will we answer the call_

_To take up arms against our brothers of blood_

_Never again will the roads run red_

_Flags of our nations at half mast forever_

_Never again will the trumpet sound_

_Urging cavalry and infantry over plains_

_Never again will Thompsons bark_

_Flags of our nations at half mast forever_

_Never again will we hide in dug trenches_

_Waiting for the silence before an advance_

_Never again will morphine be drunk_

_Flags of our nations at half mast forever_

_Never again will our booze be guzzled_

_By cowardice generals behind the lines_

_Never again will the dice be rolled_

_Flags of our nations at half mast forever_

_Never again will we bury our mates_

_In foreign fields under mortar fire_

_Never again will the borders dispute_

_Flags of our nations at half mast forever_

_Never again will the minefields be found_

_By the first platoon off the mark on the ground_

_Never again will the chopper inbound_

_Flags of our nations at half mast forever_

_Never again will warning bells sound_

_Before a twilight bombing run_

_Never again will our cities burn bright_

_Flags of our nations at half mast forever_

_Never again will we have to die_

_For our nation or the common right_

_Never again will we have to fight_

_Flags of our nations at half mast forever_

_Never again will we have to fight_

_Flags of our nations at half mast forever_

Me and me mates always sung that song before Ricky played the Last Post in the evenin's, just like my father and his mates before us. They started off singin' it as a bit of a joke for their mate who wrote it – that was the day Dad's mate discovered that Gerry bombs only had three second fuses not five. Their platoon leader banned all games to do with stolen grenades from then on. Now it's our platoon's rally cry; we sing it for the poor sods that have to lead the next advance. They're not gonna have a chance to remember to tell anyone how bad our singin' was. All of us in the limelight have had enough of this war. Most of us don't even know why we're fightin' or what we're fightin' for. It's damn easy to say "We're fightin' for Queen and Country" but what's it mean anyway? I didn't wanna come to this nightmare continent in the first place; I got conscripted just like Frank, Mark and B.J., and some "adventure" it's turned out to be.

We got "transferred" out of the 4th Battalion last week 'cause Joey was caught nickin' the Sergeant's booze – again. He got four weeks worth of double duties for it. Served the bugger right – I told him the Sarge knocked off at four not five but he wouldn't listen to me would he? It's not the first time me and me mates have been kicked out of a unit and Davy got himself kicked out of the tank corps for runnin' over the Colonel's jeep. Well it is hard to see out of those things. So now we're stuck right at the front – trench 13, facing the blasted Gerry's across No-Man's Land. It's wet, muddy and we've got no booze now thanks to Joey. Not to mention the mortars are much louder from here and they never seem to stop. Don't the German sods ever sleep, or eat for that matter? They seem to drop thicker and faster during our ration breaks. Next time we decide to nick stuff off the officers, I'll be the one to do it. At least they didn't find the cards, cash and forging gear we stashed in Frank's old backgammon set. I might need to use 'em later to keep B.J. off report. One of us has to keep his nose clean so we don't get transferred again. The only thing worse then bein' on the front is bein' on the front line. Oh heck, here comes the Cap'n and he's not lookin' too good. The last time I saw him lookin' that green was when Davy replaced his expensive booze with turps he got from the tank division when they were on rec leave. Maybe we've got rec hours he doesn't know about.

We didn't have rec leave. The Cap'n came with the worst news you can get around here. We didn't really expect any less. All our mates in here are rather fond of the Cap'n – he treats us fair and doesn't pull us up for gamblin' as he can easily out bluff us at Poker and the news he brought probably hit him harder then it hit us. We were to lead the next advance. Me, Joey, Frank, Mark, B.J. and the rest; even the Cap'n. He knows better than any of us that not one advance ever came back from over the top. We had twenty-four hours left in this hell hole so he said he'd join us in the 'rec room' as we called the tent, for a final round of booze and gamblin'. Like he was gonna put us on report on our last night. It had to come sooner or later.

Dawn just broke and there goes Ricky playin' Reveille. He never misses a note that kid. We stayed up all night, boozin', laughin', jokin' and a few of the younger ones curled in a corner and cried when they though we weren't watchin'. Can't blame 'em. Even the Cap'n looked like death warmed up. All we can do now is play one last round of cards 'til the five minute warning. Here comes that useless General now. I'm surprised he's crept from his hidin' hole safe behind the lines to see us off. Not even Mark's listening to the jumped up sod's speech. He probably memorized it 'cause he had nothing better to do. There's the warning bell. Just enough time for one more round of Dad's mate's song before we go over the top. One last time.


End file.
